The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2)

by Aminadra, Karen

  “Don't you laugh at me!” Kirby spat. The man's voice lowered and now had a dangerous edge to it, “She is mine. She said she loved me, and I am not leaving here without her.”

  Edward finally found his courage, and the life flowed back into his limbs. He stepped forward, took a deep breath to confront the man and have him thrown bodily out of the house when Lord Davenport spoke across him.

  “We've been through all of this before, stupid boy.”

  Edward’s head snapped around to glare at his father-in-law, who utterly ignored him.

  “I told you already that you shall disappear and never go near my daughter again or I would deal with you, did I not?”

  “I hardly think this is the time or place to have this discussion!” Edward shouted to make himself heard over the murmuring guests and James’ ravings. “Stainton, get this man out of here now!” he commanded.

  “Oh, pipe down, Emberton!” his lordship jeered.

  “I beg your pardon?” Edward stared at his father-in-law, open-mouthed and flabbergasted at such rudeness.

  “You heard me. Pipe down!” Davenport pushed his chair back and rose, coming around the table to stand to Frances’ right and address Kirby face-to-face. He pointed his fat finger at Kirby's nose. “I know I made myself perfectly clear before. I have no compunction in carrying out my previous threat. Do I make myself understood?”

  Kirby still would not back down, “I am not leaving here without her, you understand? Her marriage to Emberton is a sham just so you can use him!”

  Once more Lord Davenport erupted with laughter, his entire body rippling with each guffaw. “My dear lad, you are in no position whatsoever to make demands.”

  “I'm not leaving here without her!” Kirby shouted emphatically.

  His lordship stepped slowly and deliberately around the back of Frances’ chair and stood in front of James Kirby, towering over him like a giant. “I don't think you understand.”

  Edward felt the tension in the air increase and began to worry that this state of affairs would quite possibly end in fisticuffs. He stepped forward to intervene.

  “You stay where you are, Emberton. I don't need your help dealing with this,” his lordship hissed and held out his hand to stay Edward while maintaining eye contact with Kirby.

  “I—”

  “I said shut up and stay where you are!” Davenport bellowed at Edward.

  At first Edward thought his ears were buzzing in his fury at his father-in-law, but as the sound grew in intensity, he realised it was the hum of conversation from around the table. He looked behind him at his assembled guests and saw them shaking their heads, pointing fingers at him and Lord Davenport, and nodding towards James Kirby. Some of the words spoken reached his ears, none of them good. Panic began to rise throughout Edward’s body as he foresaw his political future crumble.

  “You don't scare me!” Again James Kirby was shouting. “She's a whore, that's what she is!”

  A collective gasp made its way around the room. Edward was incensed. Never before had he wanted to hit a man so much as he did right then. Even as he started to act on that impulse, one look at his father-in-law stayed him.

  “I know what you're up to with him!” Kirby pointed back at Edward. “He hasn't got a clue how you're using him, poor sap.” He glared back at Frances. “She's good for nothing, and she’s certainly no good for the likes of you lot!” Kirby sneered at the assembly. “She isn't a lady, she wasn’t a lady when I first had her, and she certainly isn't a lady now. I am going to leave this house with Frances, and you, none of you, are going to stop us.” Kirby made a grab for Frances' wrist.

  Edward’s eyes narrowed with fury. His vision blurred red. He forgot about his father-in-law, forgot about his guests as he lunged at James Kirby, grabbing at the hand that held his wife’s wrist in an effort to wrench it free. Enraged, Kirby landed the balled fist of his free hand square on Edward’s nose.

  Edward cried out as the sickening crunch of crushed cartilage sounded through the room. Blinded with pain, he lashed out, his own fist connecting hard with Kirby's jaw. Ducking to avoid Kirby's counterpunch to the side of his head, Edward drew his right arm back for another blow when he felt strong hands seizing him from behind and pulling him from the fracas. The scent of cigar tobacco and Scotch assailed his nostrils. It was his father-in-law, Lord Davenport.

  Edward was roughly shoved to the side of the room. He leant upon the mantelpiece for support and wiped at his bloodied mouth and nose. He watched helplessly as Kirby was manhandled and, with brute force, dragged from the room kicking and screaming by footmen.

  It took Edward a moment to realise it, but the sound of chairs scraping against the parquet floor filled the air. He turned to see his guests rising, murmuring amongst themselves, and, to his dismay, making their way to the front door.

  “Please don't go!” he cried out desperately. “I sincerely apologise!” But it was to no avail. His guests were leaving.

  Kirby's cries could still be heard echoing through the hall as he was hauled out of the house. “You are a bloody fool, Emberton! He's using you! He'll bring it all down around your ears, you mark my words!”

  Somewhere deep in Edward’s mind, the notion that Kirby meant to warn him about his father-in-law took root. Edward had no time nourish the thought. His guests were leaving en masse. He endeavoured to persuade them to stay, desperately hoping to salvage the dinner party. His pleas fell on deaf ears.

  “Wh…what?” Edward stuttered feebly. His mind was in a whirl, Kirby's words repeating over and over in his head. As his guests slowly filed past him, muttering meaningless sounds as they took their leave, Edward asked the world in general, “What did Kirby mean by that?”

  Just as William Wilberforce was passing in front of Edward, his expression sad, he stopped, patted Edward’s arm consolingly, and said, “I think you need to ask your father-in-law that question, young man.”

  Edward stared after Wilberforce as he departed. He felt helpless and deflated. His entire wonderfully planned evening had collapsed because of the intrusion of a single deranged man from his wife’s past. He turned his eyes, reddened from the unshed tears that he’d forced back, upon his father-in-law and asked once more, “What did Kirby mean by that?”

  Lord Davenport waved dismissively at Edward and twisted towards Frances, “Ah, never you mind that, my lad! Kirby was just blowing out hot air!”

  Edward would not be put off by his father-in-law again. Not tonight. “Don't dismiss me like that!” Edward barked far more aggressively than he intended.

  “There's no time for that nonsense now. Can't you see your wife is in distress?” his lordship replied.

  Edward could not see Frances at all, for her father's ample frame shielded her from his view. He sidestepped and looked around his father-in-law to see that she wept silently into her handkerchief. His heart lurched, and he bounded forward, pulling her out of the chair and enfolding her into his arms, where she wept bitterly into his shoulder. He had been so wrapped up with Kirby, his guests leaving, and the mysterious warning that he’d forgotten Frances and how this had to have affected her. He feebly tried to console her.

  “I am so sorry, Edward,” she wept.

  Edward ran his hand through her beautifully curled hair. “It's all right. I don't blame you, Frances.”

  Still she continued to weep. “But all our guests are gone! I ruined our evening!”

  Edward felt the sting of that statement. The evening was indeed ruined, but he did not blame Frances. She wasn’t responsible for Kirby’s actions. “It's not your fault, my love.”

  “Oh! Save me from those platitudes!” exclaimed Lord Davenport, his momentary concern for his daughter’s feelings having passed. “The lass is right. The evening is ruined.”

  Edward sighed in exasperation. “That is hardly helpful.”

  “Be that as it may,” his lordship continued, lighting one of his fat cigars from a candle in a three-armed silver candelabra upon th
e table. “It does not change the fact your guests have gone and your chances of getting them to ever come back here, even for cocktails, are very slim indeed.”

  Edward could have thrown something at his father-in-law for saying that. His words caused Frances to sob harder. “Please. Think of Frances,” Edward pleaded.

  His lordship sneered. “You don't see the bigger picture, do you, Emberton?”

  Nonplussed, Edward glowered at his father-in-law.

  “Because of Frances here,” he poked his cigar in her direction and puffed out a cloud of smoke, “your chances of getting in Wilberforce's inner circle are now shot to pieces.”

  “I am well aware of that,” Edward muttered with a heavy heart, wondering if this also spelt the end of his career.

  “You are of no use to me if that's the case!” His lordship coughed.

  Edward did not catch all of what he said. “No use?”

  Lord Davenport stopped coughing from his own cigar and replied, “That is what I said. You are no good to me if that's the case.”

  “I don't follow you.”

  Frances pulled away from her husband slightly. “Papa, please don't!”

  “What? What's going on?” Kirby’s words and the reliable heaviness in the pit of his stomach melded together, ringing warning bells in Edward’s head.

  “Don't you see?” Frances asked him, her tears still rolling down her face. “Don't you see what he's doing?”

  Edward stared at her blankly, knowing there was some truth just out of his reach.

  She gripped hold of the sleeve on his long dinner jacket and shook it in desperation. “He's using you!”

  Edward glared at his father-in-law, anger and alarm vying for a position of prominence. “What is she talking about?”

  “I was dead right about you, Emberton,” Lord Davenport replied with something akin to triumph plastered across his face as he trudged towards the door on his way out. “You really are a soft touch,” he chuckled.

  Edward’s suspicions loomed large, no longer niggling doubts. “Tell me what you're talking about! Now!” he blasted.

  This stopped Lord Davenport in his tracks. The old man turned around and fixed Edward with a stony scowl. “I don't much care for your tone of voice, young man. If I were you, I would not use that tone with me again.” He paused, allowing the weight of his words to make an impression on his son-in-law. “I might as well tell you it all now, seeing as my stupid daughter may have well gone and ruined everything anyway.”

  Edward furrowed his brow feeling weak and helpless.

  “She's right. I was using you,” his lordship said jubilantly and puffed on his cigar. “You were putty in my hands, Emberton. You did everything I asked you to, just like a puppet on a string.” He laughed viciously.

  Edward’s heart sank down into his boots. He knew now why Lord Davenport wanted to know every single minute detail of every conversation he had with those who supported William Wilberforce's cause. “You wanted to…” His throat tightened and clamped around the words and he could not say them.

  “Of course. I want to undermine your cause!” He continued to sneer at Edward. “Believe it or not, Emberton, there are quite a lot of powerful men in this great country of ours who rely on the slave trade. None of us want it abolished. I did what I had to do to undermine the abolitionists’ cause, and I would do it again.”

  Edward felt as though he had been slapped around the face. “You're not for the abolition?”

  Lord Davenport's laughter was cutting. “Of course I'm blasted well not! Only a fool would cast their lot with you all! You will never see the abolition of slavery in this country, Emberton!”

  “Oh, yes, we will!” Edward spat back furiously.

  “Huh! Not in my lifetime, you won't!” His lordship turned on his heel and marched out of the house. At that moment Edward hoped he'd marched out of their lives for good.

  They stood motionless in the dining room. Edward was aware that Frances was beside him, her hands clapped over her mouth, staring at him in a blend of shock, disbelief, and fear. It took him a minute or two before he could look at her.

  “Oh, dear God! I am so sorry. He swore me to secrecy when I found out.”

  Edward did not know what hurt more, being used by his father-in-law, being the possible single cause for the failure of the abolition of slavery, or his wife having known all about it and not confiding in him.

  He could not speak to her. Not right now. His heart was too heavy, and it hurt far too much. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to work out the way forward from here. Slowly Edward made his way out of the dining room and towards his study. He closed the door behind him and thanked God he’d had a lock installed in the door. He turned the key just as he heard Frances’ footsteps running along the hallway after him.

  “Edward?” She tapped gently on the door.

  He ignored her. He could not bear to speak to her now. He feared if he did, he would say something he would live to regret. He turned and made his way to the fireplace and slumped down heavily into his leather chair.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Edward?” Once again, Frances tapped on the door to Edward’s study. She felt desperate and overly emotional. She wanted to scream out and demand that Edward open the door, but she knew she would be making the situation far worse than it already was.

  She had been horrified when she heard the sound of James Kirby's voice out in the hallway. After all the preparation she had put into arranging the dinner party, her worst nightmare had come true. She could not believe he would be so stupid as to not only defy her father but to arrive at Sandon Place, where she lived with her husband, and make such a scene. When he grasped hold of her and Edward came to her rescue, an ugly scene becoming even uglier, Frances could only pray for the ground to open up and swallow her. She had never been more embarrassed in her entire life.

  When she was younger and she misbehaved, her governess used to say, “Be careful, for your sins will find you out.” How true she knew that to be now. Frances Emberton was who she was now. There was no changing that. She could not travel into the past and become a virtuous young lady any more than she could change the fact that her father was a devious and manipulative scoundrel.

  She tapped on the study door again. “Edward, please talk to me.” She was well aware how pathetic she sounded, but she cared not. All she wanted was to make things right with her husband. She wanted him to not be angry with her. She wanted him to say that all would be well and that she was forgiven.

  As the silence stretched on, Frances knew Edward would not open the door and speak to her that night. Her heart squeezed with the pain. Reluctantly, she made her way up to her bedroom, not looking at Stainton, who tried his best to catch her attention. “Just clear it all away, Stainton,” she mumbled as she climbed the stairs.

  Once she entered the bedroom, she slipped out of her gown, leaving it on the floor as she walked with a heavy heart over to the bed and slipped beneath the sheets. She turned over on to her right side and hugged the feather pillow. She let the tears flow freely, burying her face into the soft pillowcase. She cried out into the pillow, “I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Frances did not know when the tears subsided and sleep claimed her from exhaustion.

  * * * *

  Edward woke up somewhere around half past three in the morning. He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and could just make out the hands in the moonlight. He shivered. The room was cold and there was no fire in the grate.

  He stretched out his stiff limbs and sat up in the chair, touching his bruised nose tentatively. He strained his ears for the slightest sound of movement in the house. Nothing moved; no one was awake. He was cold and a little hungry. Lifting himself up out of the chair, he shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and stepped out into the hallway. There were no candles lit; everyone was abed.

  The moonlight streaming in through the windows that flanked the front door enabl
ed Edward to see sufficiently and make his way to the dining room. Once inside, he was disappointed to see everything was cleared away. There was no food remaining. Going down to the kitchens in the dark was unappealing. He would just have to wait until the morning for breakfast. Edward turned around and slowly made his way to the bedroom he shared with his wife.

  He paused with one foot raised above the stair. Frances. The thought of her gave him a pang of guilt. He ought not to have left her to cry alone; she felt bad enough without him making things worse. He realised that his chances of advancing his career were likely dashed, but was becoming aware that there were more important things in life, such as his wife. He had been naïve in trusting Lord Davenport, he now knew, but he was churlish and should not have taken it out on the woman he loved.

  He resumed climbing the stairs, feeling his life was in tatters. He did not care if he ever saw his father-in-law again. The way he had used him was indescribably appalling; the use of his own daughter in the dissimulation, disgusting.

  The love he felt for Frances was strong, his contrition for his treatment of her earlier deep. He resolved that even if she was asleep, he would whisper an apology in her ear and hope she would accept it.

  The bedroom door creaked as he opened it. He could have cursed at it. He wanted to wake Frances with his own apology, not the sound of a creaking door, giving the impression he was merely going to sneak in and slip into bed beside her.

  As he approached the bed, he saw her stiffen. She was awake and knew he was there. In an instant, he decided to continue with his original plan. Quickly, he slipped off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and undid his shirt buttons. Undressing in haste was never as efficient as one hoped, and Edward fumbled with the buttons. Eventually, the shirt came off. He unbuttoned his britches, slipped them down to his ankles, and slid off his silk stockings. He lifted the corner of the sheets, slipped into the bed, and before Frances could turn over, he nuzzled up to her and whispered in her ear, “I am truly sorry. Forgive me.”